By Winnie

Thanks to Vickie for being my beta on this one

"That was one of the stupidest move I've ever seen," Tanner declared as he slammed his dust-covered hat down on the table.

"Don't start this shit again, Vin," Larabee ordered, his voice tinged with deadly anger.

"I didn't start it, Larabee, you did!"

"Can you two just give it a rest?" Sanchez asked as he joined the others at the table.

"No Damnit! I can't. He almost got us all killed the other day and now all he can do is sit and drink!" Tanner surprised everyone as he shouted, his blue eyes cold and calculating as he stared into the angry green eyes of his friend.

"That's enough, Vin," Wilmington tried to defuse the situation, recognizing the deadly look in his oldest friend's eyes.

"Is it, Buck? Is it ever enough with the great Chris Larabee?"

"Shut up, Vin," the words were spoken low, but each man recognized the undercurrent of anger in them.

"Why, Chris, you gonna pull your gun on me the way you did Ezra?" the tracker asked as he slugged down the shot of whiskey Nathan Jackson placed before him

"Mr. Tanner, I think it would be prudent if you changed the subject," Standish suggested.

"I ain't got a clue what prudent means, Ez, but I ain't backin' down on this one," the long haired man growled as he returned his attention to the dark-clad gunslinger. "It's time Larabee realized he's not alone no more. If he's gonna do stupid things like he did back there, then maybe it's time he left town altogether."

"Who the hell put you in charge, Tanner?"

"Nobody, but maybe it's time we did put someone else in charge. Someone who's not afraid to go on living. Someone who's not trying to get themselves and everyone around them killed."

"That's enough now. Shut up, the both of ya!" Jackson shouted as he saw the worried frowns on the residents of the town standing at the bar.

"Stay out of it, Nathan," Tanner ordered as he turned his angered gaze on the healer.

"You're a coward, Chris Larabee. You should have shot that bitch at the ranch.

Instead ya let yerself get shot. Coulda' shot her the other day, but no, ya jest stood there and let her escape again."

"It's my life, Tanner," Larabee snarled as he stood up to leave.

"Is it? What about Sarah and Adam? It was their life too, but because of yer relationship with that bitch they're both dead," Tanner taunted, realizing he'd gone too far when the darkly-dressed man's fist snaked out and connected with his chin, sending him flying across the saloon.

"Chris," Wilmington cried and tried to get between him and Tanner.

"Outta my way, Buck," Larabee snarled as he shoved the ladies man away from him.

Tanner turned just in time to duck away from another fist, lashing out with his own fist to connect with Larabee's taut belly.

Larabee gasped for air as he staggered backwards into a table. Using it to stay on his feet, he turned his attention back to the younger man.

Tanner rushed headlong at the blond, his shoulder driving into the muscular chest as

Larabee tried to get his balance.

Chris flew backwards over the table, which shattered, spilling whiskey-filled glasses, cards and coins. He pushed himself up as Tanner towered over him.

"We gotta stop this," Dunne cried.

"They're grown men, JD, ain't nothin' we can do till they get this outta their systems,"

Jackson shook his head sadly at the sight of blood on Tanner's chin. "I'd better get my supplies," he told the others as Chris regained his footing and the two friends stood toe to toe.

Vin lifted his foot and kicked out at the gunfighter, connecting solidly with his side and driving him past the other men and out through the double doors of the saloon.

Chris lost his footing as he backed over the single step, coming to rest on his butt in the dry dirt. If he hadn't been so angry, he would've found humor in the situation.

Tanner rushed past the others, fighting the urge to walk away, knowing his anger would not let him. Twice he'd seen Chris Larabee put the seven in danger because of Ella Gaines. Well, no more! More than that, he hadn't given a damn about his own life, putting it in danger as well. This time he was gonna beat some sense into the stubborn, bull-headed gunslinger. He slammed the swinging doors back just in time to see his target get to his feet. He stumbled down the step, once again standing in front of the man he thought he knew as a friend, and a brother. The two men traded blows back and forth. Vin landed a vicious blow to the blond's face, opening a cut above his right eye and sending him flying through the glass window into the Potter's store.

Chris stood up and shook off the shards of glass, ignoring the blood that flowed from a deep gash near his right elbow. He threw another fist at Tanner's head as the younger man stepped through the broken window.

"OK, you two, that's enough!" Sanchez shouted, not expecting to be heard. The two friends had been at loggerheads for over a month, since Chris had reconnected with

Ella Gaines. Now that frustration and anger was being taken out on each other.

Tanner staggered back, tripping over the windowsill and striking his head against the wooden boardwalk. He bit back a groan as he stood up and reached for the older man, grabbing him by the collar of his dark shirt and throwing him backwards over his head.

He heard a grunt of pain as the blond landed on his back, the air driven from his lungs.

"Alright you two hardheads. Stop this before someone is really hurt!" Wilmington yelled as he reached out and pulled the dazed gunslinger to his feet.

"Stay outta this, Buck," the blond warned as he dove at Tanner, propelling the tracker backward over the horse trough.

"Come on, Vin, give it up," Sanchez pleaded for reason as Jackson came down the stairs from his clinic.

"No!" Tanner shouted as blood seeped from a cut on his left cheek, to blend with the stream coming from his split lip.

"We gotta put a stop to this before they kill each other," Jackson declared

"Just how do you expect us to do that without gettin' our heads shot off?" Wilmington asked as they followed the two figures down the centre of town.

The tracker stood up, not bothering to brush the dust from his clothes. Uttering a guttural cry, he threw a booted heel into Larabee's left side.

The blond felt his ribs give, but wouldn't stop advancing on the younger man. His left fist connected with Tanner's nose and blood sprayed from the tracker's nostrils as he once more fell to the ground.

Chris stood over his friend, hands braced against his damaged ribs, breath coming in hiccupping gasps, blood streaming from the cut above his eye, "Thought you were my friend," he gasped out.

"Friends don't turn their backs on each other like you did, Larabee," Tanner spat as he gained his feet.

"Looks like the idiots are tiring," Sanchez remarked

"I wouldn't speak too soon, Josiah," Wilmington swore as he watched the two men circle each other. He knew from personal experience how tenacious Larabee could be.

"Would any of you like to wager on which of the two combatants will remain standing at the conclusion of this encounter?" Standish asked.

"Shut up, Ezra!" Wilmington, Jackson, and Sanchez ordered.

"Buck, they're both hurtin'. We gotta stop em," Dunne said as he watched Vin circle the older man.

Chris watched the younger man through hooded eyes; his body felt as if it were on fire. He knew Tanner's last kick had broken a couple of ribs, but he wasn't willing to give into the pain. Nor was he willing to admit to his friend that he was right in what he'd said about his being unable to shoot Ella Gaines. He knew he was close to the steps of the jail, but tripped on the edge as he continued to circle Tanner.

Vin reached out and turned the older man just as he stumbled over the edge. He wrapped his arms around Larabee's neck in a chokehold, squeezing until he heard the other man gasping for breath.

Larabee drove his left elbow backwards, connecting with the tracker's chest, grabbing the other man's arm with his right hand as he tried to dislodge the tightening band around his throat. Chris felt the blackness at the edge of his vision as his body felt the lack of air. With every ounce of strength he had left, he bent forward and pulled the younger man up and over his head, crying out as his injured ribs throbbed painfully in his chest. He gasped as he tried to force air into his tortured lungs.

Vin lay on the ground, gulping in air, as the world spun around him. Ignoring the pains of his body he staggered to his feet and once more faced the older man.

Anger and rage were the only emotions the two friends felt. The friendship they'd shared was forgotten as they glared at each other. Neither man wanted to admit he was wrong. Neither would back down. There was no hint of the close friendship that once bonded them like brothers as everything disappeared in the blinding rage of two Alpha males.

Tanner grinned as he watched Larabee stumble towards him. He kicked out with his right foot, driving it into the other man's left knee, and was rewarded when the blond cried out.

Chris staggered back as the pain erupted in his knee, barely keeping his footing as his leg threatened to collapse. The pain was the final insult. With a feral gleam Larabee launched himself at the sharpshooter.

Larabee picked Tanner up by the collar, hitting him with three vicious successive blows to the face, then dropping him as Vin's eyes rolled back in his head and he ceased moving. "God damn you, Vin Tanner, I never should have let you or anyone else into my life."

"Ya finished there, Chris?" Wilmington asked angrily as he sank down beside the younger man.

"Yeah, Buck, I'm finished. Finished with all of you," Larabee spat as he turned away from his six friends, limping towards the livery.

"Where do you think you're going, Brother?" Sanchez asked, reaching out to stop the man in black.

"That's none of your business, Preacher man," the blond shouted, shrugging off the hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe not, but you'd better let Brother Nathan have a look at ya before ya go anywhere," Sanchez tried to reason with the angry man, watching Standish exchanging money with a few other men.

"I'll look after myself. I don't need any of you," Larabee declared as he walked away from the tiny group.

"Better let him cool off, Josiah," Wilmington suggested as he watched the man limping away from them.

"Someone should go with him," Jackson ordered.

"He needs some time on his own right now, Nathan. I'll ride out to the shack and check on him in the morning," the ladies man said. He'd seen his friend in this state before, shortly after the death of his wife and son and knew there was no way to reach him until he had time to think things through.

"How's Vin?" Dunne asked, not believing the viciousness he'd just seen as his two heroes tore into each other.

"Mostly just bruises. A couple of cuts that may need stitching. He's lucky Chris didn't break his nose. Help me get him to the clinic," Jackson told them.

Josiah picked up Tanner's shoulders while Buck took his feet. The two men walked towards Jackson's clinic with the unconscious man. Both men stopped as they heard Nathan Jackson's muted curse.

"Damn stubborn fool shouldn't be leaving town right now."

Sanchez and Buck looked up in time to see Chris Larabee astride his large black, headed out of town. "There's no way you can stop him, Brother. Best thing for you to do is look after brother Vin," Sanchez suggested.

"I know, Josiah, but I'm worried about how much damage Vin did to him."

"Give him some time alone, Nate. I'll ride out after him once I know how Vin is," Wilmington told him as they started up the stairs, his worried gaze continuing to follow his oldest friend.

Chris rode the black past the men he'd come to call friends. His practiced eyes took in the amount of blood covering the younger man's face. His eyes watered as he realized he'd been the cause of so much pain and suffering. 'God, I did that to him. I'm sorry, Vin,' he thought. Ignoring the mass of pain that emanated from every pore in his body, he turned away from his friends and rode out of town.

"How bad, Nathan?" Wilmington asked.

Jackson stood and stretched his tired body, rubbing his lower back as he answered. "He's got a lot of bruises and some minor cuts, but no broken bones. He'll be mighty sore when he wakes up."

"Why don't you get some sleep, Nathan? I'll stay with brother Vin," Sanchez suggested.

"I think we all could use some rest. We missed a lot of sleep and that's probably what happened in the saloon. Chris and Vin are not usually that hot headed. Least not with each other," Wilmington laughed.

"What about Chris?"

"I'll ride out to the shack at first light and bring the fool back for you to look at."

"Alright, Buck, I'm just worried about how much damage was done to him."

"Me too, Nathan," Wilmington said as he opened the door and left the clinic.

Chris groaned and opened his eyes as he felt his horse come to a complete stop. The bright moon illuminated the tiny shack he'd built with the help of Vin Tanner. As suddenly as the thought came, he pushed it away. Vin Tanner was no longer a friend. Not because of something he'd done, but because Chris Larabee couldn't afford friends. Friends forced you to make choices you didn't want to make. Made you face things you didn't want to face.

He dismounted and sank to his knees, a cry of pain spilling from his dry throat as his leg collapsed beneath him. The brilliant orb of the moon spun crazily overhead as he struggled to remain conscious. He lay on the damp ground, pain seeming to be his only companion as his mind wondered back to the latest meeting with Ella Gaines.

"I need a drink," Larabee said as he dismounted his horse and threw the reins over the hitching rail.

"I second that, Mr. Larabee," Standish said as he followed the older man into the saloon.

Seven dusty, trail-weary men strode up to the bar and ordered drinks. The bartender placed a bottle of whiskey and seven glasses on the dirt-encrusted bar.

"You fellas just passin' through?" the man asked.

"Ya might say that," Larabee answered as he refilled his glass and downed it in one smooth move.

"Well, yer either passin' through or yer not. Which is it?"

"Reckon it's none of yer business," Tanner told him.

"Now that's where yer wrong, young fella. I may not look like much, but I'm the law in this little shit hole and that makes it my business."

"You're the law?" Dunne asked, taking in the dirty clothing adorning the man.

"That's right and that gives me the right to know why you fellas are here?"

"We're lookin' for a woman," Larabee told him, a hint of coldness in his voice.

The man behind the bar laughed, a sound that held no joy in the dull interior of the saloon. "If ya find one of them, let me know. We ain't had a woman livin' here for nigh on two years," he informed them.

"Ya don't mind if'n we take a look around, do ya?" Tanner asked.

"Look all ya want, but stay outta trouble. Jail's only got one cell and it ain't big enough to hold all a ya," the man laughed.

"We'll keep that in mind," Sanchez said as they finished the bottle and left the saloon.

As soon as the seven men left the barkeep tore off his grimy apron and hurried into the back room. "He's here, but he's got friends with him," he told the dark-haired woman.

"I knew he'd come," Ella smiled ferociously. "Now you remember what I said and make sure none of your men hurt him. I don't give a damn what happens to the others, but Chris Larabee is not to be hurt. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am, you're payin' fer this."

"That's right, I am. Are your men ready?"

"Ready and willn' ta do anything fer the money yer payin'."

"Then get out there and do what I'm paying you to do," Ella snapped.

"Yes ma'am," the man answered.

Ella Gaines watched the dirty man leave the room. She sat back in the chair and sipped at the glass of wine she held, a feral smile on her face. "Soon, Chris, we'll be together soon and no one will ever take you away from me again."

"Anything?" Jackson asked.

"Nothing," Sanchez answered, rubbing the back of his neck worriedly. "Something's not right with this town. Most of the places don't seem to have been lived in for a long time."

"I noticed that too. Maybe we should go find the others," Jackson suggested as the hairs on the nape of his neck stood up.

"There's Buck and JD," Sanchez said as he saw the two men exit a building that looked to be a store.

"Let's see if they found anything," Sanchez suggested as he hurried across the street.

"Did you guys notice anything strange about this place?" Dunne asked.

"Yeah, JD, except for the saloon, this place is a ghost town," Jackson answered.

"I suggest we find the others and have another chat with the bartender sheriff," Wilmington told them as he nervously scanned the silent, empty street.

Ezra Standish shook his head as he surveyed the dust and dirt-covered floors and shelves in what had once been a store. 'This establishment has seen better days,' he thought as he pushed open the door and heard the protest of rusted hinges. He brushed his hands against his pants and coat and coughed as dust floated up and into his throat.

"Hey, Ez, what'd ya do, roll in the dirt?"

"On the contrary, my young acquaintance, I didn't have to roll in the dirt. There seems to be an abundant supply of the stuff," Standish answered as he continued to brush off his clothes.

"Did you see anyone?" Jackson asked.

"Except for the disgusting man in the saloon, I haven't seen anyone."

"Neither have we," Sanchez said as he looked up and down the deserted street.

"This place gives me the creeps," Dunne shivered as the barely audible words left his mouth.

"I think we'd best find Chris and Vin and have another talk with the sheriff," Jackson suggested.

"Looks like they found us," Wilmington said as the two men walked towards them.

"There ain't no one here," Tanner said as they joined the others.

Chris was quiet as he gazed around the street, trying to figure out why he felt nervous. His eyes caught and held a hint of movement above the saloon. "Get down!" he shouted as the first bullet landed to his right. He dove behind an empty horse trough, pulling his gun and firing in one smooth move.

The sound of guns filled the late afternoon as the deserted town came to life in a blazing battle between the seven and the men hired by Ella Gaines.

Ella watched from her vantage point inside the saloon, cringing each time a bullet came close to hitting the man she loved. She gasped as a bullet kicked up dirt next to Larabee. "No, Chris," she whispered as she watched the man lift his head and shoot at the roof of the store.

Larabee took two quick shots before his eyes were drawn to the window of the saloon, his eyes opening wide as he spotted the woman he'd come to hate so much. He reloaded his gun and once more fired at the roof across the street, smiling as he heard a yell of surprise.

Ella watched Larabee as he lithely got to his feet and started across the street towards her. She held her breath as more bullets found the dirt around him.

"Damnit, Chris, get down," Wilmington shouted as he tried to cover the running form.

Larabee ignored the sound of his friend's voice as he returned fire, smiling as he heard a muted cry of pain.

Ella realized she'd been seen and rushed to the back door. She wanted Chris Larabee, but she wasn't a fool. She knew she underestimated him again as she heard the doors to the saloon slam open. She focused her gaze on the door ahead of her and rushed through it as a bullet hit just above her head.

Chris Larabee was a man on a mission. That mission was to rid the world, and especially himself of the dark-haired woman who'd destroyed his family and his happiness. He fired as she flew out the door, missing her head by an inch as she ducked.

Ezra Standish had worked his way to the back of the saloon. He looked up from his vantage point just in time to see the object of their search exit the saloon.

"Stay where you are," he ordered, but had to drop back behind an old broken wagon as a shot went over his head.

Chris Larabee barrelled through the door, just seconds behind the dark-haired woman. His gun never wavered as he searched the area for her.

He pointed his gun at her, firing just as she jumped onto a large black horse. The hammer clicked empty as their eyes met, hers full of love, his cold and deadly with pure hatred.

"You bitch," he screamed as he tried to catch her. His hands missed her cloak as she galloped away on the high-spirited steed.

"Mr. Larabee, perhaps we should get the others and pursue the bitch," Standish suggested, repeating the word Larabee had used to describe the woman.

Chris turned to Standish, gun held in front of him, anger showing on his snarling face.

"Chris, what are you doing?" Tanner asked as he rounded the corner of the saloon just in time to see Chris Larabee, anger written in his very stance, his gun pointed at the gambler.

"Damnit, we have to get after her," Larabee shouted as he raced to the front of the saloon and grabbed his horse's reins. He threw himself into the saddle before the others had a chance to ask what he was doing and took off in the direction the woman had disappeared, narrowly missing the tracker and the gambler in his need to catch Ella Gaines.

"Goddamnit, Chris, wait for us," Wilmington shouted as he mounted his own horse. Six men headed out after the man in black.

Several hours later found a very angry and frustrated Chris Larabee in a shouting match with Vin Tanner.

"Why didn't ya shoot her this time, Larabee? What the hell did ya think ya were doing, pointing yer gun at Ezra?" the tracker's angry voice carried above the sound of the waterfalls.

"Lay off, Tanner," Larabee shouted as he struggled with the knowledge that he'd once again missed out on taking his revenge on the woman who'd hired Fowler. He ignored his friends as he walked away from the fire, his muffled curses giving evidence of the anger he felt.

"Mr. Tanner, he wasn't pointing his..."

"Don't make excuses for him, Ezra, I saw him point that gun at ya," the tracker yelled angrily, watching the blond cringe as his words reached his ears.

"I think we could all use some sleep," Jackson suggested as he watched the mounting tension between the two men who'd saved his life.

"A very good idea, Brother. I'm sure we all want to get an early start tomorrow," Sanchez said.

Chris lay on the ground, the pain all but engulfing his body as he struggled with the memories of the last week. He remembered the search for Ella Gaines and how they'd had to give up when the woman once again seemed to vanish into the landscape. He knew he should've explained to Tanner how he'd tried to shoot the bitch, but his gun had been empty. He could understand how Vin had misinterpreted the scene he'd come upon. He knew how it looked and why the tracker had thought he was pointing his gun at Standish. All he had to do was explain it to Tanner and this whole mess could have been avoided. Now, because of him, Vin Tanner was injured. 'Damn, I'm sorry, Cowboy, I shoulda told you what happened. Could have avoided all this.' he thought as he finally made it to his feet.

He wanted to pull the saddle from his horse, but couldn't find the strength. Instead he just turned him loose in the corral. "Sorry, Boy," He said as he turned towards his shack. He stumbled towards his home, the pain in his knee threatening to send him crashing to the ground once again. He shoved open the door, closing it behind him and leaning against it.

He fought to focus his eyes as the throbbing in his head made the room spin. Shoving away from the door, he stumbled to the bed and dropped on top of it. Closing his eyes he let the pain and weariness of the past week wash over him as he lost the fight to stay conscious.

"Good morning, Mr. Tanner," Standish said as he heard a groan from the tracker.

"What's so good about it?" Tanner grumbled as he cracked his eyes open. "Who hit me?" he asked as he tried to rise up from the bed.

"That would be our very own leader, Mr. Larabee," Standish said as he helped the injured man sit up, placing pillows behind him.

"Chris? Why'd he do..." the tracker began, stopping as the memory of the previous night flooded back to him.

"I can see by your expression that you have sufficiently recovered enough to remember last night," Standish observed as he reached for a glass and passed it to Tanner.

"Damn, Ez, my head hurts too much ta listen ta that fancy talk a yers. Jest speak English, will ya?"

"You have your memory of last night back," Standish explained.

"Yeah. Don't think much of em, though."

"Understandable," Standish quipped.

"Where's Larabee?" Tanner sneered.

"He rode out to his cabin last night."

"Couldn't a hurt the blamed fool too much then?"

"Unknown."

"What the hell do ya mean, unknown? What did Nathan say bout him?" Tanner snapped angrily.

"He left before our illustrious Mr. Jackson could look at him."

Tanner closed his eyes, and snuggled back in the pillows. "Damn fool."

"Mr. Larabee is not the only damn fool," Standish stated, anger in his green eyes.

"What's that supposed ta mean?"

"If you'd have let me explain what happened that day we met with Ella Gaines, none of this would have happened."

"What's to explain? Chris didn't shoot her and then had the nerve to point his gun at ya," Tanner ground out between gasps of pain.

"You should know not everything is so cut and dried, Mr. Tanner. Mr. Larabee did try to shoot her, but his gun was empty. I called to him and he turned. He did not draw his gun on me; it was just in his hand when he turned. I don't think he even realized it was still there," Standish explained.

Vin Tanner swore sharply as he realized his mistake. He'd been so angry over the past month and he'd let that anger fuel the fire as they once again lost Ella Gaines. "What have I done?" he grieved as the angry fight he'd had with his best friend replayed in his mind. A fight that never would have happened if he'd thought about the scene he'd come upon in the ghost town.

"It's not all your fault, Mr. Tanner. Mr. Larabee could have taken the time to explain what happened to you."

"I was so angry, I wouldn't have listened, Ez," Tanner said. He flicked back the blankets and once more tried to get up, only to fall back against the pillows.

"Let that be a lesson to ya," Jackson remarked as he entered the room in time to see the younger man trying to get out of the bed.

"I have ta go ta Chris," the tracker told him.

"Buck and Josiah have already left for his shack. They'll bring him back," Jackson explained.

"I got some apologizin' ta do."

"Ezra told you what happened?"

"Yeah, Nathan, I shoulda known Chris would have shot her, specially after what she did. Get me up, Nate."

"You won't be goin' nowhere for at least a couple of days, Vin. So just lay there and be quiet," Jackson ordered as he began examining his patient.

"But I gotta talk ta Chris."

"You can talk to him when Buck and Josiah bring him back."

"What if he don't wanna come back?"

Jackson smiled at the man on the bed. "Buck can be very convincing when he wants to be. Now try to rest."

Tanner yawned and knew Jackson was right. He'd have to wait till he could sit a horse before he went after Chris. 'Bring em back, Buck,' he thought, as he closed his eyes and let exhaustion pull him under.

Wilmington noticed the saddled horse in the corral and turned to Sanchez, voicing his worries. "Something's wrong, Josiah."

"You check the shack and I'll take care of his horse."

Buck nodded his head as he climbed down from his horse. He watched the bigger man move towards the skittish horse in the corral. He turned away, opened the door and rushed into the dull interior. His eyes adjusted quickly and he saw his friend stretched out on the bed. "Hey, Stud, you okay?" he asked as he strode towards the bed. The slow rise and fall of his friend's chest did little to reassure the ladies man as he knelt by the bed.

The gunslinger's face was covered in dried blood. Bruises covered most of his face; the swelling around his right eye told Buck that he wouldn't be able to open it anytime soon. "Come on, Stud, open your eyes for ole Buck."

"How is Brother Chris?"

"I don't know, Josiah. He's out cold."

"Guess we'd better get him back to town and let Nathan have a look at him," Sanchez suggested worriedly.

"How we gonna do that? Chris don't have a wagon."

"I'll carry him with me," Sanchez decided.

"You'll have to be careful. I don't know what kinda injuries he's got besides the ones on his head."

"L...eave me," the gunslinger's quiet, pain-filled voice ordered as he brushed away Wilmington's hands.

"Can't do that, Stud, you're hurt. We're gonna get you to Nathan, so's he can check you out," Wilmington said as he grabbed one of Larabee's clean shirts and wrapped it around the damaged right elbow.

"Go a...away."

"Hey, Brother, how are you feeling?"

"I'm f...fine, Josiah. J...just go a...away and leave m...me alone," the blond told them, opening his left eye and glaring angrily at them.

"Ya sure don't look fine, Stud. Looks like only one of your eyes is working," Wilmington laughed as he touched his friend's sides, causing him to groan sharply. "Sounds like ya may have a couple a broken ribs, Pard. Anything else we should know before we get ya on a horse."

"Ain't g...goin on a h...horse, Buck."

"You're not in any position to stop it, Brother Chris," Sanchez said as he watched the ladies man check the gunslinger's injuries.

"Looks like Vin really did a job on your knee, Stud."

"Vin, a...alright?" Larabee moaned as the ladies man touched his swollen knee.

"He's fine. You may have knocked him out, but he don't look nearly as bad as you," Wilmington laughed.

"Shut up, B...Buck," the man in black said, grimacing as a stabbing pain lanced his skull.

"Just lie still, Brother. We'll get you back to town and into Nathan's hands."

"S...said I wasn't g...going."

"And I said you're in no position to stop us, brother," Sanchez said. "Help me get him up. Buck."

"Sure thing, Josiah. Now this is gonna hurt, Stud, but you'll feel better once Nathan takes care a ya."

"Damn, you two ain't gonna let up, are you?"

"Nope. So shut up and let us do what we have to do," Wilmington ordered.

"Alright," the gunslinger muttered, resigned to being unable to stop the two men.

Josiah and Buck supported the injured man between them until they were out of the shack. Josiah climbed aboard his horse and between him and Buck, they got the nearly unconscious man seated in front of the ex-preacher.

"Won't be much longer, Brother," Sanchez reassured the younger man, wrapping his arms around him and holding him gently.

"K," the injured man whispered, breathing shallowly in order to stem the waves of pain in his chest.

"Why don't you go to sleep for awhile, Stud?" Wilmington said as he climbed on his own horse.

"He already is, Brother," Sanchez told him.

"Nathan, looks like Josiah and Buck found Chris," Dunne called as he hurried up the stairs to Jackson's clinic.

"Where are they?" Jackson asked as he stepped from the clinic.

"Just coming into town," Dunne answered. "Chris don't look good."

"Go make sure Vin doesn't try to come down. Help him move to the cot so I can put Chris on the bed."

"Yeah, sure," Dunne said as he went inside.

Jackson hurried down the stairs, reaching the bottom just as Sanchez and Wilmington pulled up. "How bad's he hurt?"

"I'm not sure, Nathan, looks like he's got some broken ribs, one hell of a cut on his arm and his knee don't look too good neither," Wilmington reported as he reached up to pull the injured man from Sanchez' arms.

"Let's get him upstairs," Jackson ordered as Sanchez tied the horses.

Wilmington lifted his friend into his arms and climbed the stairs to the clinic. Gently he placed the blond on the bed and moved out of the healer's way. He turned to see the horrified look on the tracker's face as he caught sight of the damage he'd done to his friend.

"Buck, let's get his clothes off," Jackson ordered as he examined Larabee's head.

"Nathan?"

Jackson shook his head as he leaned over the injured man. "Not now, Vin. Just stay where you are so I can see to Chris."

Wilmington gasped on seeing the boot-shaped bruise on Larabee's left side as he opened the dark shirt. "Nathan, we have to lift him, if ya want me to take this off."

"Josiah, give me a hand to get him up," Jackson ordered.

"Sure, Brother," Sanchez responded as he moved to the opposite side of the bed and helped lift the injured man to a sitting position.

"T...told you to l...leave me," the gunslinger cried as he was lifted forward.

"Can't do that, Chris," Jackson said as Buck finished removing the shirt.

"Nathan?"

"That's right. Now you just lie there and let me have a look at you."

"Vin ok?"

"Vin's fine. You can see him after I'm done looking after you," Jackson said as he opened a brown bottle and filled a spoon with the liquid. "I have something to help with the pain, Chris. Now open up."

Larabee opened his left eye and trained it on the healer. "What is it?"

"Laudanum," Jackson replied as he placed the spoon in front of the man's mouth. "Open up, Chris."

Larabee knew he wouldn't be able to handle the pain much longer and opened his mouth, swallowing the liquid and grimacing both from the taste and the pain.

Vin Tanner watched from his seat on the bed. His eyes took in every cut and bruise on his friend's body. His ears caught every muted cry as Nathan Jackson examined the injuries he'd inflicted.

"He'll be fine, Vin," Dunne reassured as he noticed the horrified look on his friend's face.

"Will he, JD? Some friend I am. Didn't even give him a chance to explain."

"N...not your f...fault, C...Cowboy."

Tanner's head shot up as the softly-spoken words reached his ears. He tried to get to his feet, groaning as his aching body protested.

"Stay where you are, Vin," Jackson ordered as he probed the leader's ribs.

Vin heard the cry of pain and had to fight the urge to go to his friend. 'God, I'm so sorry, Cowboy. Shoulda given ya a chance ta explain. I did this to ya,' he thought as he slammed his fists against the wall.

"Vin, I got my hands full with Chris right now and I ain't got time to look after you if ya break your hands," Jackson warned, as he continued to work on Larabee.

"Why don't we go outside, Vin?" Dunne prodded.

"I'm staying put," the tracker told him.

"You can stay as long as you just sit there and rest, Vin. Josiah, Buck, lift him up so I can bind those ribs," Jackson ordered.

Tanner's eyes never left the healer as he worked on the leader. Quickly, efficiently Jackson wrapped the strips of bandage around the injured ribs and then let Buck and Josiah lay him back on the pillows.

"It's not broken," the dark-skinned man said as he examined the injured knee. "I'll wrap it so he doesn't cause any more damage," he told them.

"What about his elbow?" Wilmington worried.

"It's gonna need stitches. Are you still awake, Chris?"

"Hmm," the sleepy, pain-filled voice answered.

"I just have one thing left to do. Gonna have to clean your arm and put in some stitches. Think you can stay still long enough for me to do that?"

"G...guess so," the blond answered tiredly.

Vin watched as the healer cleaned the wound in Larabee's right arm. He cringed inwardly as he heard his friend cry out. "Chris," he said, not realizing he'd spoken aloud.

"It's ok, V...Vin," the blond whispered as Nathan finished cleaning the wound.

"Sure ya are, Pard."

Tanner's voice was barely audible, but it reached the injured man and he turned his good eye towards the tracker. "Told y...you it's not your f...fault," he told him.

The tracker grimaced at the sight of the bruises and swelling on his friend's face. "I shoulda let ya explain, Cowboy."

"N...next time, Pard," Larabee said as he finally lost the battle to stay awake.

"Bout time," Jackson exclaimed as he began stitching the large wound on his patient's arm.

Chris opened his eyes, groaning as he tried to move on the bed. He opened his left eye and tried to look around the darkened room. He caught sight of the younger man and let a smile touch his face. The memories of the fight and the reasons behind it played over and over in his mind. He knew he'd hurt Tanner when he hadn't believed him when he told him about Ella and the Culpepper mine. Now, over a month later, Ella Gaines was still causing a rift between them. 'Will it ever end?' he thought as he tried to sit up in the bed.

"Easy, Cowboy."

Chris looked up as a hand touched his shoulder. Swallowing the lump in his throat he looked into the worried face of his friend. "I'm sorry, Vin," his voice a soft whisper, filled with the pain of his own betrayal.

"Yer got nothin' ta be sorry fer, Cowboy. I shoulda given ya a chance to tell me what happened, stead a thinkin' the worst."

"Vin, you had every right to think the worst. If I'd trusted you when we were at the ranch, none of this would have happened," Larabee told him, turning his face away from the younger man.

"Sounds like we both should be apologizin', Cowboy. I'm sorry, Chris, I really am," Tanner said, hanging his head and resting it in his hands.

"I'm sorry too, Pard," Larabee said as he turned to meet the eyes of his friend once more.

"Guess that's it then. Ya think ya can trust me ta watch yer back?"

Larabee smiled as he answered. "Wouldn't trust the job to anyone else. Will you trust me?"

"Without a doubt," Tanner said as he grasped his friend's wrist in their own version of a handshake.

"I take it you two have talked everything out?" Wilmington inquired as he and the other members of the seven entered the clinic.

"Ya might say that, Bucklin," Tanner retorted with a grin.

"Glad to hear it, Brothers," Sanchez grinned lopsidedly at the two men.

"I could use a drink," Larabee said hopefully.

Jackson walked to the bed and poured a small amount of water into a cup.

"That's not exactly what I meant, Nathan," the blond protested before sipping the water.

"I know what you wanted, Chris. But it'll be a week or so before you can have whiskey, so just lie back and relax."

"Don't know if I can last a week," the blond protested vehemently.

"A week won't be long goin', Cowboy," Tanner teased.

"Like hell," the blond responded, yawning loudly.

"Night, Cowboy."

"Good night, Vin."

True to his word, Nathan Jackson released his patient one week later. The seven men sat at the same table they'd occupied the night of the fight between Larabee and Tanner. Bruises were still evident on both men. Chris used a cane to help keep the weight off his injured leg. His ribs were still sore, but he was able to move a little more freely. His elbow was stiff, but he'd been exercising it to get it back to form. Nathan's stitches prevented him from using it fully.

"So Stud, how's it feel to be out from under Nathan's watchful eye?"

"Feels great, Buck. No offence, Nate."

"None taken, Chris," the healer said with a grin.

"I need a drink," Larabee said.

Tanner looked at his friend, a smile broadening on his face. Before anyone else said anything, he took a coin from his pocket and said softly, "All right, I'm buyin' the first drink."

THE END